Coming Clean About Tiger Drive

Vitality Stories

field behind Tiger Drive. Photo by Gretchen LeMay

Where one door closes

In last week’s newsletter, I shared that a trailer burned on Tiger Drive, taking the lives of a man and his dog. Honestly, sharing the post about the fire, how I feel about Tiger Drive, and an update on my novel created my most personal newsletter to date. I know, because I felt vulnerable after I sent it, and I second guessed my willingness to share how I visit Tiger Drive whenever I’m in town and that an agent closed the door on representing my novel. Then, as doors are intended to do, a few swung open.

More doors open

A few friends shared the newsletter on Facebook, and I quickly learned the man who had died did have a family, one that would miss him. Thanks to the degrees of friendship in Facebook, I was put in touch with his niece who shared her family had lived in The Safari Trailer Park for almost forty years. I also heard from a former classmate who told me he lived on Tiger Drive for a year as a kid while his home was being built; I think I moved to Tiger Drive just as he left. I’d always felt a sense of community with Tiger Drive but I was beginning to feel rewarded that it was larger than I ever knew.

I mentioned I was inspired to reach out to my alma mater high school to coordinate the next Tiger Drive Scholarship award. In response, I heard from a classmate who is the school’s librarian. She’s had several students over the years that lived on Tiger Drive. The following Monday I heard from Ms. Chambers in the Counseling Department, and now I’m excited because the next Tiger Drive Scholarship recipient won’t only be a Carson City High School graduate attending college in the fall of 2016, he or she might live on Tiger Drive.

Finally, last week I explained how the agent reading my book, Tiger Drive, decided she wouldn’t be offering representation. But later that same day, I participated in an ‘elevator pitch’ contest on Twitter. You have up to 140 characters to tell agents what your 77,000-word novel is about and persuade them to request a partial manuscript. Within a half-hour, I had a request for chapters from a literary agent and from an editor. Time will tell if they will be interested in reading more. It’s always good to remember that doors work in both directions.

Eyes open, too

In response to last week’s newsletter, I also heard from childhood friends who reminded me how much fun they had coming to my home on Tiger Drive for sleepovers. And a new friend said, “I think we had very different childhoods.” My old and new friends have me reminiscing and I realize I need to open up about my full experience on Tiger Drive. My book is fiction and not a portrayal of my life. Next week I’ll share more about the book and clear up any questions of fact and fiction, but for now, here are some truly happy memories of my time as a kid on Tiger Drive:

There was always someone to play with. The road was always flooded with children. We raced and played hide-and-seek, red-rover, ballgames, Simon Says, and tag.

My friends always came for sleepovers and loved the novelty of the cacophony of several siblings. In the 1970’s, it was safe enough to cross two busy roads and go to Thrifty Drugstore for ten-cent boxes of Hot Tamales and fifteen-cent triple scoop cones. We’d pool our allowances and walk to McDonalds and then the theater. I must have seen Xanadu 100 times with my sticker-collecting-bestie, Aimee, and at times, my cousin, Jenny.

Click image to watch the trailer

My siblings and I had freedom and independence, and we didn’t abuse it. “Don’t talk to strangers and come home when the street lights come on” was the general rule. We could spend hours exploring in the sagebrush fields with our dog. My little brothers and I walked to and from our elementary school one mile each way. Without fail, my mom had a dinner on the table by 3:30 p.m. so we’d eat something substantial and healthy after school. Every holiday was an event with full decorations and gifts. Each new school year, we were each given $100 for clothes and my mom would turn us loose in a mall while she found a bench and read in peace for a few hours. I felt rich in choices, love, and happiness. I never wanted for anything in those pre-teen days.

In fact, I recall the time three cute boys from elementary school found out where I lived. One weekend, they rode their bikes through the trailer park. The following Monday at school, the rumor mill was saying, “Teri is poor.” I had no idea what they were talking about. I thought they were crazy. I had everything I wanted at that time.

And finally, some really nice people lived on Tiger Drive. I had the Stocks, our next door neighbors, who would welcome me into their home when I was fifteen and let me live with them for a while after my dad died in 1986. I loved them and their two little boys. I’d tell people, “I live with my neighbors now,” which always caused confusion. There was Rudy, the man who paid to have our cat spayed after her fifth litter. I didn’t know him, but I’ve always been grateful for his compassion.

Thank you

I’m sure this newsletter was more fun for me than you. I’m smiling as I wrap this up and close. If you have any questions or comments about the drive or the book, send me an e mail me. I enjoy hearing from you.

As always, I’m grateful for your time. Have a wonderful week and thank you for being you.

Teri